


The Bread Makers Daughter

by Sheahazza



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Orginal Characters, Rating May Change, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheahazza/pseuds/Sheahazza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hanan's bethrothal fell through after the death of said bethrothed, she thought she would never have another chance to love again. When the death of Al Mualim it brings changes on the wind, changes that offer second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bread Makers Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first time writting AC fanfiction. This story is under development and is very open to suggestions. I will say that the ages of the characters at the begininng of the story are very young as it is a glimpse into they're childhood. I put the pairings here because its easier which are:
> 
> Kadar/Hanan  
> Malik/Aida  
> Hanan/Malik/Aida (no three way sorry XD)  
> Altair/Maria  
> Malik/Altair
> 
> Oh my gawd looks like a soap opera from here!

The Bread Makers Daughter  
Hanan’s earliest memory is not of her father’s kitchen. Nor was it of cuddling into the bosom of her elderly neighbor Fahima. Her earliest memory was of her betrothed’s brother Malik striking her in the face. She had made said betrothed Kadar cry and Malik had come to his defense, not caring that she was a girl but that she made his little brother cry. Hanan remembered well the pain that had blossomed over her face and the blood that dripped from her swelling nose. It was one of the rare times Aida, her sister, had actually acted like a sister. Aida, passionate girl that she was, had flown at Malik like a vengeful demon, clawing and scratching at him till he managed to flee behind His father Faheem’s legs. Taking a corner of her hijab, she’d pressed it to Hanan’s face soaking up the blood and tears. 

By then their father Moottalib had come out of his shop apologizing to Faheem for his evil daughters transgressions and that he hoped this hadn’t changed their arrangement. Faheem had assured him that all was forgiven and had swept his sons back up to the fortress for suitable punishment. Moottalib was to punish his daughters as well. For the rest of the day they had to help to prepare the bread. Aida hated making bread. It was disgustingly soft, the dough clung to her skin, the flour got everywhere and the kneading and pulling made her fingers ache. Hanan, unlike her sister, enjoyed the task and would find a comfort in the routine later in life. To her the dough was a conduit of all her worries. For every pull she pushed her worries out of her mind. For each knead she smoothed a furrow in her brow and the flour was like silken gloves coating her fingers.  
Later on in the day Faheem and his sons had come to their home for dinner. The meal was delicious of course, Fahima had prepared the majority of the meal, but the girls had provided the bread. Quiet little Hanan was positively beaming by the time the meal was through. Her bread had been devoured with compliments between bites. After the meal the children except for Malik who was considered a man by twelve were ushered to the back room to play quietly.

Aida quickly left to where she and Hanan’s pallets lay. Singing softly to herself she sat brushing out her hair leaving Kadar and Hanan to themselves. Twisting some of dress around her small fingers Hanan had quietly apologized. She told him that she wouldn’t do so again. Smiling toothily at her Kadar accepted her apology and said he had a gift for her. Letting a pendant swing from his fingers he presented it to Hanan. Excitedly he explained that with her being his betrothed that this was his gift to her. He went on to tell her that this was from his late mothers small collection. A feeling Hanan wasn’t sure where to place welled up in her chest. Taking the pendant she studied it. It hung from a simple chain the links shining in the weak light. The pendant was an ankh Kadar explained from Egypt and that in hieroglyphs meant life and that it was made from electrum which was rare so she should take care of it. Moving quickly Hanan hugged him and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Blushing Kadar all but ran to the front room complaining of a stomach upset.

Faheem believing him made his apologies and cut his conversation short. Moottalib smiled easy and said his goodnights. Before the returned to the fortress Malik boldly gave his gift to Aida, a pendant like Hanan’s but a small emerald hung from hers. While the children were interacting Hanan managed to hear the adults parting words about how Faheem’s fellow master assassin Umar had returned and that he returned with an addition. His “bastard son” by a Christian whore.’ Hanan didn’t like the phrase. It sounded ugly and mean. She did catch the boy’s name though. It was Altair Ibn-La’Ahad

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought of Malik as an angry child with confusing mood swings, and Kadar as a sweetie.


End file.
